


Valentine's

by LadyKailitha



Series: John's Adventures in Sherlockian Romance [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Holmes name opens doors, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Romantic Sherlock, Valentine's Day Fluff, Wales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKailitha/pseuds/LadyKailitha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock hates holidays and sentiment and Valentine's day is chock with both, but as with everything with John, this year is quite the exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's

I stared at the calendar in disbelief. Shit, shit, shit! Valentine's Day was next week. This would be Sherlock's and my first one together. I wasn't even sure if he wanted to do anything at all. He didn't like holidays in general. Granted Christmas was a special kind of hell for the man but he didn't even like Halloween, one holiday I figured would be right up his alley. 

I ran my hands over my face in frustration. Plus there was no way that I could outdo that first real date of ours but should I wait for Sherlock to plan something instead? Argh! The problem with that, however, was what if he genuinely forgot and felt guilty? He'd be sulking around the flat for days. Weeks even. 

Well, there was only one thing for it. I'd have to ask the detective if he wanted to do something for the holiday and if he didn't, then I would play the martyr at work and take the last shift for all the doctors who did have plans for that night. It really bothered me, though. I wanted to do something with Sherlock because he was special. When I had girlfriends around this time of year, I hadn't been with them long so I did the basic "out to a nice restaurant." But Sherlock--Sherlock deserved the whole kit and caboodle. The whole nine yards as the Americans say. 

I sighed deeply. Just when I had reached the deepest part of my despair, in dashed the love of my life, his blue eyes bright, his coat flailing behind him as he hurtled in. I watched as he took it off and tossed it on to the back of my chair. He huffed as he threw himself in his chair and looked up at me through dark eyelashes. 

"Apparently there is a dreadful holiday coming up that everyone we know seems to be participating in, and thus leaving me with nothing to do." Sherlock looked positively revolted. 

"You're talking about Valentine's Day?"

"Even my brother has a date!" Sherlock snapped. That shocked me more than the petulant attitude did. 

I walked over and straddled him in the chair. I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his. "Are you forgetting something?" I asked after I broke off the kiss. I could feel the tension leave his body. 

He looked down, ashamed. "I wasn't sure you'd want to do anything… after all, I'm not a woman." 

"If I could shout my love for you from the top of the tallest building in London, I would, you daft git. Here I was worrying that you wouldn't want to do anything." He looked up at me sharply. "You dislike two things, Sherlock. Holidays and sentiment. Valentine's Day is chock full of both." 

"Not with you," came the soft reply. 

I chuckled and kissed his lips. "Well, then. Let's plan something that will make all our friends jealous that they didn't think of it." A wicked gleam entered his eyes and I swear I could almost hear the whirl of his hard drive starting up. 

I put my hand over his heart. "Why don't you come up with a list of ideas, and I'll come up with a list of ideas, and we'll decide between the two lists?"

Sherlock nodded and then he looked up at me expectantly. "Uh, John? I can't make a list while you're on my lap."

I chuckled. "Nope. But we have a week and I have other ideas at the moment." A slow smile spread across his features. 

"Oh," his voice dropped dramatically, and it sent shivers down my spine. He pressed his lips to mine and wrapped his arms around me. I sighed happily as I ran my fingers through his hair. Despite looking all hard angles and sharp lines, he was surprisingly soft. Especially his skin. It may look cold and hard like porcelain or alabaster but it was warm and supple. 

I rutted forward and he gasped. "Bed," he demanded. I nodded, he lifted me up and carried me, still wrapped around his waist, to the bedroom. As soon as he was through the door, he kicked it closed and proceeded to ravish me in the most delightful ways. 

As we lay in bed, sated and content, I thought about what might be romantic for for a couple as strange as we were. We talked about it for hours trying to come up with things we'd both like to do. 

We ultimately decided that we would have an all-day romantic interlude. I wished we could do a picnic but winter in London was no place for that sort of thing. It might not snow that often but hell did it like to freeze, especially this year. That meant unless we planned on a vigorous activity (and no, sex didn't count, it required our clothes being off and it certainly too cold for that) we would be frozen to the core after bare minutes. And hypothermia was no joke. 

I woke up for work the next morning and smiled down at my love. He slept more these days, ate more too. I kissed his forehead and got up to shower. Dressed and fully ready to go, I stopped to look at Sherlock's sleeping form. He was more peaceful in his sleep, God knows I never get any peace while he's awake. I felt blessed and honored he picked me. 

I took the tube as I did most mornings I worked. While Sherlock was bringing in a good chunk of change from his cases, I was saving up my money for something special and I was almost there, too. I got paid the day before Valentine's, and I hoped it would be enough. 

I strolled into the little surgery where I worked and was greeted by the receptionist. 

"Hey, Dr. John. There's a package for you on your desk," she informed me when I waved hello. Only the girls in reception called me Dr. John, everyone else seemed to get the message that at work I was Dr. Watson, and away from work I was John. 

"Thank, Ally," I muttered. I got to my office and sure enough there was a small package on my desk. I hung up my coat and moved to stand over the parcel. There was a small note in a familiar hand, which read, "I didn't think you'd appreciate the usual trappings of the holiday so I got you this instead."

I sat down hard. Sherlock had gotten me a present for Valentine's Day? And had arranged it in such short notice, too. I opened it up and inside was a leather wrap. Curiously I unrolled it and gasped when I saw what it was. 

Just then a knock came at the door and I bid them enter. Sarah poked her head in.

"Hey, John--" she began and then saw the look on my face. "Okay, what has he done now?"

I chuckled weakly. "Come see." It was fine for her to see it as she had seen the object it was for. She came in and closed the door tightly behind her, she moved over to the desk and looked down at the now-open leather wrap. Her hand went to her mouth to cover her gasp.

"That looks expensive as hell, John," she muttered as she ran her fingertips over the kit. 

"I know the brand; it's not too expensive but it's the best in the industry. The army has been trying to get the manufacturer to sell to the government for years." I looked down at the most beautiful, and clearly the best gun cleaning kit in the country--quite possibly the northern hemisphere--and Sherlock had bought me one. 

"Wow, I didn't think Sherlock did sentiment," she said as she finally looked up at me. 

"Apparently, he does for me. And Lestrade, and Molly, and Mrs. Hudson and…" 

She burst out laughing. "All right, all right. I got the message. He's an oyster that's hard on the outside, soft on the inside and if you're really lucky, a pearl too." 

"And oh, I did get the best and brightest pearl I've ever seen," I breathed, unable to take my eyes off the kit. I coughed and looked up at her. "So, you got a date for Valentine's?"

"Actually, I do. Came as a bit of shock really, but I'm excited." Sarah's danced with mischief.

"Anyone I know?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. 

"Mycroft." As there was literally only one man in London by that name, one with the surname Holmes, my eyebrows shot up. 

"Wow. I always thought that he and his PA had a thing." Anthea or whatever it was she was calling herself this week. 

"Apparently, she's been seeing that lovely detective from our first date. Dimmock, I think his name is." Well, that was a juicy bit of gossip that I hadn't heard and I spend more time at the Met than I do almost anywhere else but Baker Street. 

"Wait…" I said as office gossip came filtering through. "She's the pretty brunette he's been seen with?" I asked, incredulous. 

"That's the one." Sarah's smile had a mischievous turn to it. 

"Wow, and with Greg and Molly going out, we pretty much close the circle don't we?" This morning just kept getting stranger and stranger.

"I suppose we do now, with Mycroft and me joining in on the fun," she laughed. 

"After Valentine's we should all get together for dinner, the eight of us," I suggested. 

"Only if you plan it," she said as she made her way out the door. 

"Deal!" I called after her. She waved at me over her shoulder and closed the door behind her.

I smiled and then pulled out my phone. 

Thank you for the lovely gift- JW

You're welcome, John. You're worth it- SH

I found out who Mycroft's date for Valentine's is- JW 

I knew that would get his attention and sure enough the reply was nearly instantaneous.

Your Sarah?- SH

She hasn't been mine since a madman in Westwood tried to use me to level a swimming pool. But yes, that Sarah- JW

Well, she was marginally clever and a higher caliber than your dates that followed- SH

I chuckled. That was as high a compliment that any woman I dated was ever going to get from Sherlock. 

So you wouldn't mind having her for your sister-in-law then?- JW

Well…I wouldn't go that far.- SH

I laughed and set my phone down. It was time for my first patient of the day, but I suddenly couldn't wait to get home. 

The day crawled at an achingly slow pace and when it was time to clock out, I was out the door like a flash. I barely waved goodbye as I ran past, the gun kit gripped tightly in my fist. Once outside I whistled for a taxi. Apparently the taxi gods were with me, as one pulled up almost immediately. 

I gave the address for home and settled back to look at the gift in my hand. The leather was soft and supple and reminded me of Sherlock's skin after a shower. I don't know how long I stroked the wrap, but suddenly the taxi screeched to a halt. I got out and paid the cabbie. I ran up to the flat. I barely threw open the door before Sherlock attached his lips to mine. 

When we finally broke apart I breathed, "If anyone tells me you're not romantic, I'll punch them in the face. That was the most marvelous gift I've ever seen and I plan on thanking you all night…" He blushed.

"I hoped it would go over well."

"'Over well'? Sherlock, that has got to be one of the best gifts I have ever gotten in my life." He raised an eyebrow at me. "It's in the top five you've given me. The best gift is you." He blushed again.

"You are the only person who not only tolerated my moods and deductions from the beginning, but you called me brilliant, amazing, and fantastic all within hours of meeting me. No had ever called me that. Mycroft was always there first. Seven years my senior and I always feel like I'm playing catch-up. Always smarter, better, more social. Then you came along and suddenly I had someone who didn't feel that way at all. You could have taken his money; spied on me for him but no. John Watson wouldn't stand for that, not at all. You turned him down and came running…"

"And I've been chasing you ever since," I muttered.

"You caught me, John. I'm yours." 

I drew him into a hug, "And I am yours, Sherlock."

The next week when I'd show up at work there was always something waiting for me at my desk. Sometimes it would be a simple card saying how much he loved me; others it would be a bottle of my favorite aftershave or an expensive gift like a cardigan. By the third day everyone would huddle around as I opened up the gift. The girls in reception would sigh and even Sarah would look impressed at the latest token of affection. 

"If you ever want to give him up, you send him my way," Ally sighed. 

"Like hell he'd give up someone like that," the other receptionist, a perky blonde named Abby, told her. 

I chuckled. "Oh believe me, not even the hounds of hell could drag me away from him now." 

Finally the day before Valentine's arrived and everyone was twittering with excitement, asking me what our plans were for tomorrow. But I refused to tell them. I didn't want them stealing our ideas. Plus some of them were personal and I was not the kind to kiss and tell. 

Though Sarah did tell me that Mycroft was doing "the fancy dinner" at the most exclusive restaurant in town. He'd even sent her a dress for the occasion. No doubt from someone famous and dangerously expensive. As if Mycroft would wish to be seen with someone in anything less. 

She laughed when I mentioned it. "It's an Alexander McQueen pencil dress; of course it's expensive."

That meant nothing to me, but clearly all the girls in the office were atwitter about it. Later I looked it up and it was over £4,000. For a first date, clearly Mycroft was serious about her. Though I wasn't sure how serious Sarah was. 

I got my check and nearly cheered. It was more than enough. I made my way to the shop and happily handed over the money I'd been saving for months. I went home with a full heart and an empty wallet. 

Sherlock greeted me at the door as always. No matter what he had been doing during the day, he made sure that he was there to meet me. It made me feel warm inside. I kissed him hello and we settled in for a good night sleep's. Even Sherlock went to bed early. I sighed happily as he wrapped his arms around me and snuggled into my neck. This was my life and I couldn't wait for tomorrow. 

I woke up well rested. Something smelled divine but before I could get up to see what it was, Sherlock walked in with a tray of food and tea. I smiled up at him. 

"You didn't have to do that, Sherlock," I told him as he set the tray on my lap. 

"Yes, but I wanted to," came the slightly petulant reply. 

I looked down at the massive pile of food in slight dismay. "I can't eat all this on my own!" I wailed.

"You're not supposed to," he purred in my ear. I shivered happily. He sat in the bed next to me, careful not to jostle the tray, and we fed each other our breakfast. 

"Did you make this?" I asked as we neared the end of the pile. 

"Yes, John. I did have to survive on my own before I moved into Baker Street." I chuckled and he swatted at me playfully. I looked at the clock; we didn't have much time to get ready to go. He smirked and pointed to my clothes laid out and waiting for us. All I needed to do was shower and dress. 

Soon we were on the train headed to Cardiff. We snuggled in our seats and I leaned my head on his shoulder. 

"This was a lovely idea, getting away from London for the day," I told him. "What made you think of Wales?"

"Cardiff is where they film that silly TV show you like so much; they even have a huge exhibit there for it."

I jolted off his shoulder. "You mean you picked this place because you knew it would be something I'd enjoy?"

He smiled fondly at me. "Of course, John. That's not to say that there aren't things to do here that I won't enjoy as well." 

Sure enough, even though we spent quite some time at The Doctor Who Experience, we also spent time wandering the shops and touring the lake. Though unlike some couples, we opted to stick to the shore instead of braving the waters in a "romantic" row boat. 

We warmed up at one of the shore side pubs before heading out to Castle Coch to watch the sun set over the ramparts. Just as the sun began its slip behind the horizon, I pulled out the little black box from my pocket and got to one knee. 

"Sherlock Holmes, would you marry me?" He stared down at me in shock. He blinked twice before pulling me to my feet for a long kiss. Just as the last sliver of sun sank out of sight, we pulled apart.

"Of course I will, John. Forever." I took the ring out of the box and placed it on his hand. It was a simple white gold band with a braided design and our initials branded on the inside, and it fit perfectly. I beamed up at him. He was mine forever now. I kissed his lips and wrapped my arms around his waist. I was so happy. 

He looked down at me. "You need a ring, too. I have to show everyone that as I belong you, you belong to me." He got this bright look on his face and kissed me hard. "I have to make a phone call!"

He stepped to the side but I caught the conversation anyway.

"Mycroft?" He had called his brother?

"Don't give me that. I know the reservation isn't until 7."

Here Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Because apparently Sarah and John are still friends and she told him, ergo John told me."

There was silence on his end for a minute or so before he cut in. "Are you going to continue to complain or shall I get to point of the call and let you go?" I really wish I could have heard the other side of the conversation.

"Thank you. I need to use your connections to a certain family to get a ring for John." 

"Cardiff." 

There was another long pause. I wondered if it was because Mycroft was stunned to silence or because he had gone on a tirade. But apparently Mycroft ultimately agreed to whatever was being asked of him because Sherlock said, "Thank you, Mycroft."

He turned to me and smiled. "So how big a favor did you ask him for anyway?" I asked as I walked up to him. 

He took my hand and dashed off, pulling me along, "You'll see, but we have to hurry before the shop closes."

We hopped on the transport the castle provided to and from Cardiff. He fidgeted all the ride back to town refusing to tell me what it was he asked of Mycroft. He grabbed my hand again when we got to town and was off like a shot. It was a good thing it was something I was use to, otherwise I probably would have tripped or stumbled. 

He dragged me to a small shop, and we were greeted warmly upon entry. 

"Ah, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson! Your brother just called and explained everything to us. We are more than happy to help you."

I looked around. "Wait, is this where Kate and William got their rings?" Sherlock smiled at me and suddenly everything became clear. I was floored. That was one hell of a favor he had just asked of his brother. 

Sherlock marched up to the counter and showed the nice man behind it his ring. "Could you make me something like this, but in Welsh gold? Including the initials inside the band?"

The man took the ring and looked it over. He turned to me, "Did you design it?" I nodded mutely. I wasn't sure how he figured it out but I assumed he knew his trade well enough to guess. 

"May I ask what the H stands for?" the jeweler asked.

"Hamish." I blushed.

"Scottish, then. Nothing wrong with that. Unlike these English," he winked at Sherlock, who thankfully just smiled back. 

"It will take a couple days to recreate your design Dr. Watson." My heart sank. I wanted Sherlock to wear to ring on our way home.

"I'll just go and take pictures of this, and if you could email me your original designs that would be helpful as well." And just like that, the weight lifted off my chest. Sherlock was going to be able to take my ring home with him today. I nodded emphatically. The jeweler came back shortly with Sherlock's ring polished and he handed it to me.

I took the ring and put it back on Sherlock's finger where it belonged. I don't think I've seen him look so happy as he did to have that ring back on his hand. He was positively beaming. 

"Did you hear that they passed that gay marriage act?" the jeweler asked as he rummaged around for a business card for me. 

"I did," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "I was going to wait until it happened to ask him, but I had been planning on getting the ring a bit before that. I had to save up for it after all."

The jeweler just smiled as he handed me his business card. Sherlock and I ended up wandering around the town some more before we headed back to London. On the train ride over I held his left hand and ran my thumb happily over the ring on that third finger of his long, slender hand. 

His ring for me finally arrived. When I wore it for the first time at the office all the girls were aflutter with excitement for me. Sarah nearly fainted when I told her who made the ring. But none of that mattered to me as much as the sentiment behind the ring. If Welsh gold was good enough for the royals, then as Sherlock was concerned, it would be the only thing good enough for me. 

I loved that madman of mine.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots and lots of love to old ping hai, she is full of awesome and win and these stories would probably be nowhere near as good without her. 
> 
> Welsh gold: you can get jewelry with a bit of Welsh gold in it but if you want 10kt or better you kinda need to be royalty. Or very connected. Like Sherlock. And I really don't want to know what favor big brother is going to call on in that one. But knowing Mycroft something deliciously conniving. 
> 
> Train rides to Cardiff: Without them we wouldn't have this show to love and adore. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat came up with the idea to update the Great Detective on their numerous train rides to Cardiff when they were mere writers for Doctor Who. 
> 
> Also more love about Cardiff: other than exterior shots of their flat and when they have to film on location, "Sherlock" is filmed in Cardiff, too.


End file.
